Ab Jenkins, refueling during a Bonneville pit stop. Still image from video below.

Though names like Craig Breedlove, Art Arfons, Walt Arfons and Gary Gabelich are forever associated with land speed racing on Utah’s Bonneville Salt Flats, it was David Abbott “Ab” Jenkins who deserves credit for bringing world-class racing to a desolate stretch of salt desert on the outskirts of Salt Lake City. A true pioneer of speed, Jenkins’s remarkable career would include time as a carpenter, building contractor, test driver, Bonneville record holder, and even mayor of Salt Lake City.

Born in January of 1883 to Welsh immigrant parents, a young Ab Jenkins was always looking for something to race. As Gordon Eliot White relates in his book Ab & Marvin Jenkins: The Studebaker Connection and the Mormon Meteors, a young Jenkins built himself a wagon, hitched it to a goat and then challenged his friends to race. Next came track and field, a sport at which Jenkins excelled, followed by bicycle racing astride a “safety bicycle,” the replacement to the ungainly high-wheelers popular at the turn of the century. When internal combustion engines grew in popularity, Jenkins easily made the switch from human-powered to gasoline-powered racing, and competed in both short-track and cross-country motorcycle racing.

In 1924, Jenkins was hired by a local Salt Lake City Studebaker dealership to beat the existing speed record (set by a rival Studebaker dealer) for the run from Salt Lake City to Fish Lake. Mission accomplished, the dealer, Thadius Naylor, retained Jenkins to beat other distance records, including one from Salt Lake City to Los Angeles. In each case, Jenkins drove a stock Studebaker, on loan from the dealership, and didn’t receive payment for his efforts unless a new record was established.

Ab Jenkins. Still image from video.

When a new highway was built across the Bonneville Salt Flats in 1925, Jenkins was asked if he’d be willing to race a Union Pacific train. The answer, of course, was yes, and Jenkins beat the train by more than five minutes; more significantly, the race solidified his belief that the Bonneville Salt Flats would be ideal for land speed record attempts, and Jenkins soon threw himself into the task of promoting his home city.

His record-setting exploits caught the attention of Pierce-Arrow, which had just developed a 12-cylinder engine. Though it was an important marketing tool, the automaker proved incapable of getting more power from its 12-cylinder engine than was produced by its eight-cylinder, and Jenkins was invited to lend his expertise to the problem. In short order, Jenkins helped the Pierce-Arrow engineers squeeze another 45 horsepower from the new engine, raising its output to 175 horsepower. To demonstrate the engine’s potential (as well as that of the Bonneville Salt Flats), Jenkins offered to drive a 12-cylinder Pierce-Arrow in a 24-hour endurance marathon, promising to deliver 2,400 miles in 24 hours. Pierce-Arrow’s Roy Faulkner, a friend of Jenkins’s, reluctantly agreed, handing over a car that already had over 33,000 miles on the odometer. To prepare the course, Jenkins and his team smoothed a 10-mile circular track in the Utah salt; and to ready the car, the group pulled the fenders and the windshield. Jenkins merely smeared his face with grease to prevent sunburn, donned a pair of goggles and took to the track for his marathon attempt. Though he stopped for gas in two-hour intervals, Jenkins drove the entire 24 hours without rest, racking up 2,710 miles in the process.

With the Mormon Meteor III. Still image from video.

A year later, Jenkins was ready to make an official assault on the endurance record, complete with observers. Though the windy and wet weather on the day of the event would have caused most to postpone the attempt, Jenkins pressed on, eventually traveling 3,000 miles in 25 hours and 30 minutes, at an average speed of 117.77 MPH, sufficient for a new world record. Following his 1932 attempt, Jenkins was bothered by his unshaven appearance in newspaper photos; to ensure this wouldn’t happen when the official record was set, Jenkins had a crew member supply him with a tube of Barbasol and a safety razor. While lapping at an estimated 125 MPH, Jenkins casually shaved his face behind the wheel.

A devout Mormon, Jenkins shunned both alcohol and tobacco, and by all accounts was a man of conviction and integrity. When a racing representative for Firestone Tires, a long-term sponsor, refused to pay Jenkins’s AAA fines stemming from the 1932 record run and sanctioning fees required for the 1933 attempt, Jenkins was forced to approach rival B.F.Goodrich for support. Goodrich agreed to pay all fines and fees, and in addition cut Jenkins a check for $10,000 on the spot. When word of this reached Harvey Firestone, the company leader directed his racing representative (Waldo Stein, the man who had rejected Jenkins’s original request) to re-sign Jenkins at any cost. Despite having a veritable blank check in front of him, Jenkins refused to break the one-year deal he had signed with Goodrich (whose tires were, at the time, unproven in speed and distance events), and the company’s tires were used exclusively to set the 1933 record.

Jenkins’s speed record attempts weren’t limited to automobiles, either. In October of 1933, he drove an Allis-Chalmers farm tractor to a then-record speed of 65.45 miles per hour at Bonneville, an event he’d later repeat at Harvey Firestone’s Ohio farm and at the Alabama State Fairgrounds, where he’d establish a new record of 68 miles per hour. Jenkins likened the experience to “riding a frightened bison,” which likely explains why the sport of farm tractor land speed record racing never caught on with participants.

As speeds seen in land speed record racing climbed ever higher, the Bonneville Salt Flats became a superior choice to the narrow track at Montlhery, France, or the sandy expanse of Florida’s Daytona Beach. By 1935, even internationally renowned racers like John Cobb were attempting records at Bonneville, much to the delight of Ab Jenkins. In July of 1935, Jenkins provided tents and pit equipment to Cobb, even going so far as to relinquish his spot on the salt to aid the Englishman. In return, Cobb bested Jenkins’s existing record for the 100-mile distance and the 24-hour endurance run, but Jenkins wasn’t put off by relinquishing the record. His beloved salt flats had finally received the notoriety it deserved.

Later that same year, Jenkins debuted a new car on the salt. Originally dubbed the Duesenberg Special, the supercharged Duesenberg would retake the 24-hour record from Cobb, establishing a new benchmark of 135.580 MPH. The ultimate speed record, however, would go to Englishman Malcolm Campbell, who would drive the aircraft-engine-powered Blue Bird V to a record two-way average speed of 301.130 MPH. Realizing that more power was needed to even attempt the record, Jenkins received permission from the United States government to repurpose a Curtiss Conquerer aircraft engine for use in the Duesenberg Special. At the same time, Salt Lake City’s Deseret News ran a contest to rename Jenkins’s car; the chosen entry was the Mormon Meteor. As the car would require significant changes to take the Curtiss aircraft engine, it was quickly renamed the Mormon Meteor II. Under this name, the car would set a host of records, including 24-hour endurance records in both 1936 and 1937.

Mormon Meteor III, rebuilt by Marvin Jenkins. Still image from video.

A bigger and faster car, also built by Augie Duesenberg and named the Mormon Meteor III, followed for the 1938 season. Jenkins would set numerous records in this car over the years, including a 1940 record of 3,868 miles in 24 hours, for an average speed of 161.80 MPH; remarkably, this record would stand until 2005 1990. World War II put a temporary end to racing at Bonneville, but Jenkins had other things on his mind as well. Despite not spending any time or money on a campaign, the much beloved Jenkins was elected mayor of Salt Lake City in 1940, a post he would occupy until 1944. His limited runs on the salt during this time were in support of the war effort, primarily to aid Firestone in developing improved tires.

Following his term as mayor, Jenkins would return to driving as a career. In 1956, at the age of 73, Jenkins (along with his son, Marvin) was hired by Pontiac to set a new endurance record in the Pontiac Series 860. Despite his (relatively) advanced age, Jenkins drove for roughly 16 hours, refueling with milk and orange juice on refueling stops. After 24 hours, Jenkins and his son had driven the Pontiac to an average speed of 118.75 MPH, establishing a series of 28 records in the process. It would be his last; shortly after the record run, Jenkins was traveling with Pontiac executives in Wisconsin when he suffered a fatal heart attack. The following year, Pontiac would debut the model as the “Bonneville,” a tribute to both the salt flats and the men who drove the car to a record there.

Over the course of his driving career, Jenkins amassed an estimated 2 million miles, with very few mishaps and injuries along the way. Given his quest for both speed and endurance records, that’s a remarkable achievement on its own, but just one of many realized by Jenkins in his lifetime. To call his a life well lived hardly does it justice.

8 Responses to “Racing Heroes – David Abbott “Ab” Jenkins”

Thanks Kurt for another very informative article, I always wondered how the Salt Flats came to be, now I know. That last pic of the Mormon Meteor III looks really cool. I never knew about the Allis-Chalmers speed record, boy, that would bring in the corn in short order. Sadly, “Auntie Allis”, as we called her, is long gone from Milwaukee, gone by the wayside, like A.O. Smith, and AMC, to name a few. Allis- Chalmers was a HUGE employer in , where else, West Allis,( not far from “The Milwaukee Mile”), now a big residential and shopping district. It also saddens me to hear Mr. Jenkins died in Wisconsin, just ANOTHER kick in the pants for Wis., such as, #1 in the country in drunk driving and the Jeffrey Dahmer B.S.(hope you are still talking to me Mr. McNessor), again, to name a few. BTW, Allis- Chalmers lives on in garden tractors produced by Simplicity, a far cry from a once mighty name!

That Allis speed record is a new one on me too. I’m sure he achieved that without lead ballast in the rear tires. I guess A-C was indirectly involved in racing long before tractor pulls. There was a vintage Midget racer posted on this site a couple of years ago and it had a Buda 4 cyl. engine powering it. A-C took over Buda back in the 50s. The engine in that racer looked like it was pulled out of a D-17 tractor, got a different intake/exhaust installed and dropped right into the car.

Oh, and Howard, don’t be down on Wisconsin. One of the best vacations I ever had was motorcycling down the 2-lane blacktops through the Dairyland State. There’s a roadhouse 10 miles west of Rhinelander that was patronized by seniors (and me one rainy night). They talked to me about old cars, old bikes and war in the Pacific. Couldn’t have been better.

Hi geomechs, yeah, I rip on the Badger, but it is a very scenic state, especially in ” Hodag” country. I guess it really isn’t much different than any other state decimated by imports, look at poor Michigan. Besides, what other state can call home to Harley ! (except Pa. and Mo.)

Very good post, Kurt. Thanks for running it. I never knew much about AB Jenkins except that he was a racer as well as one of the kingpins that got Bonneville Salt Flats started. It’s sad that so many people make a major contribution in life then their own life is cut short soon after, and more often than not, doing something not directly involved with their profession.

I remember seeing the Mormon Meteor III on display in the Capitol building in Salt Lake City back in 1963. My dad took my older brother and I to see it when we were passing through on a vacation. I well remember the tailfin and that silver canopy but I was sure that the car was painted red instead of orange. It must have been the light and the fact that memories fade over the years. However, just seeing it and being close enough to touch it is something I’ll never forget.

Ab Jenkins has long been one of my heroes. I first heard about him, and the Duesenberg Special, as a teenager in Sacramento. I followed motorcycle and automotive record breaking on the salt flats for years, although with the internet it is now much easier to find out what’s happening than trying to follow things in obscure publications. Mr. Jenkins was an honest, upstanding person – a kind that is all too uncommon. He was reliable and loved what he did, even though he was definitely larger than life. That’s what a hero is supposed to be.

I worked for Allis Chalmers in the summers of 1966 and 1967. They had a Space and Defense Sciences department and I helped build and test fuel cells for satellites. My father worked for A-C and got me the job. Since I worked graveyard shift, I took my breaks by going out to the foundry to watch them pour engine block castings. When I worked days, I could wonder around the place where they made sand molds, since it was in the same building as the lab I worked in (the main building). I visited the hall where engines were assembled, but that’s as far as I could walk and get back to the lab when my break was over. To this day I’m impressed that nobody ever stopped me from wandering around. Things were different years ago. It made me very sad when A-C shut down.

Hi Raymond, that’s interesting you mention the sand casting, back in the 80s I worked for a trucking co. that hauled silica sand to A-C.( probably still some of that in my lungs). One day, years back, my brother called me, and said to go to A-C, and check out this crankshaft that took up 2 FLATBED RAILROAD CARS! Maybe you know what that thing as for, it was an awesome sight!

Nice post. I’ve been a huge Ab Jenkins buff since I read ‘The Salt of the Earth’ by (I think) Floyd Clymer, and learned how much he worked with the Duesenberg brothers.
“geomechs” is right, before it’s restoration, and back when it was on display in the Capitol building, it was a pale yellow color with bright red fenders.

Look up Mormon Meteor in Jay Leno`s Garage on YouTube. The MM III was among about two dozen LSR and other significant racers that were exhibited at the art museum on the U of U campus. It`s huge! What a beast to tame for 24 plus hours. Jenkins was extra extraordinary. The exhibit was called The Art of the Automobile. Look it up, too. It was a spiritual experience for car nuts like me.